


The Beat That My Heart Skipped (Sounded Like This)

by Liviapenn



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: Blackmail, Love/Hate, M/M, Podfic Available, Spies & Secret Agents, Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-23
Updated: 2007-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviapenn/pseuds/Liviapenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You'd think a queer like you wouldn't care to use blackmail as much as you do," Klaus remarked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beat That My Heart Skipped (Sounded Like This)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jay Tryfanstone](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jay+Tryfanstone).



> Written as a treat for Jay Tryfanstone in the Yuletide 2007 Challenge. Thanks to Helarctos for beta.
> 
> There are two podfic versions of this story available, hosted at the audiofic archive; one is [read by podfic-lover](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/the-beat-that-my-heart-skipped) and one is [read by fayjay](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/beat-that-my-heart-skipped-sounded-like-this%22).

After Klaus had finished shouting at everyone he could possibly shout at, he went to his coat and dug out a pack of cigarettes. It had been raining all day. All week. His gloves, stuffed into the pocket of his coat along with the cigarettes, were cold and wet. He left them there, and stepped outside, under the dripping eaves.

He was not really finished shouting at everyone he _wanted_ to shout at, and so he paced back and forth in the thin dry space under the edge of the gutter. After he had slammed the phone down for the third time, it started making odd noises when he tried to dial, and his Alphabets had wisely headed back into town to start packing their bags. Klaus didn't want to stay here any longer than necessary, but he wasn't looking forward to getting back to Bonn and giving this report, either.

Some change in the sound of the rain alerted him, and he looked up to see Eroica standing in the muddy gravel driveway that led up to the safehouse. He was soberly dressed, bundled up in thick boots and a long black coat of no particular style. His gloves, hat and scarf were muddled shades of dirty gray. With his hair hidden under the hat, he appeared almost unremarkable... except for his umbrella, which was a screamingly bright red. After weeks of rain in the middle of a Prague winter, it was almost painful to look at directly.

Eroica always could find a way to be offensive.

Klaus bent his head, mumbling as he lit his cigarette. "What do you want?"

"A little bird told me you were having a very bad day." Eroica came closer, sheets of rain sluicing off the front of his umbrella like a veil.

"God damn you," Klaus said loudly, so as to be heard over the rain. No wonder his stupid, worthless subordinates had run off like cowards. Had they been so eager to abandon their responsibilities because they'd known that Eroica was here? Klaus had long since given up wondering how or why Eroica always seemed to get involved in his business. Usually, finding out did nothing to improve his mood. Still. How had he known to go after the Sofia file? He chose instead to ask a question that Eroica might bother to answer honestly. "How did you bypass embassy security?"

Eroica smiled impishly, twirling the handle of his umbrella. "A little gentle persuasion works wonders on even the most recalcitrant men."

"Does that mean blackmail or seduction?" Klaus shuddered at the thought and took a soothing drag on his cigarette.

"Blackmail is such a nasty word. Let's say I gave your troublesome Mr. Svoboda an incentive to cooperate." Eroica lifted a gloved hand to undo his collar, revealing another flash of red; this time it was a crimson file folder, stashed inside his coat. Klaus reached out for it, past the edge of the roof. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the icy rain that immediately began soaking his shirt-cuff and running down into his sleeve.

Eroica ignored his outstretched hand. He turned away, heading past Klaus and ducking through the half-open door into the safehouse.

Klaus pulled his hand back. Gritted his teeth.

Finished his cigarette.

* * *

Eroica was rifling through the cupboards in the kitchen when Klaus finally followed him inside. He'd left his umbrella leaning against the wall, and a mudpuddle was spreading onto the dusty wooden floor.

"No coffee?" he said, twisting around to look imploringly at Klaus. He'd taken off his gloves and scarf, and his coat now hung open, but he was keeping his hat on. "Not even any hot chocolate?"

"Where do you think you are, some Parisian sidewalk cafe? No fucking coffee and no fucking scones either." Klaus said. "Give me the Sofia file."

Eroica sighed and handed it over, then retreated, perching on the edge of the table. He was not really close enough to bother Klaus, but not so far away that Klaus had to worry about searching him for palmed objects before he left the safehouse. A quick review of the file reassured Klaus that it was the real thing, and complete.

He took a breath. He could feel his headache lifting already, but he told himself it was the cigarette. Knowing that he owed the success of the mission to Eroica's whim (and that his men were probably also aware of it) was almost as infuriating as failure.

"You'd think a queer like you wouldn't care to use blackmail as much as you do," Klaus remarked. It wiped the smile off Eroica's face with satisfying speed, but that was all.

Klaus had expected Eroica to sputter and flail, mortally offended, or to over-dramatically whine about his hurt feelings. He did not expect the thief to draw himself up and lean forward, meeting Klaus' eyes directly.

"People who allow themselves to be blackmailed," Eroica said, each word crisp and cold, "deserve what they get for being hypocrites. _I_ am nothing like _them_... If you'll excuse me, Major."

He buttoned up his coat and stalked to the door. Klaus watched him go. Eroica stopped with the door half-open. He didn't turn around. "James will send you a bill for my services."

The room was suddenly far too hot; the cold draft from the doorway prickled across Klaus' face.

Eroica walked out into the rain. The door slammed behind him, cutting off the sound of the rain outside. The room was very quiet.

* * *

The next time he had to deal with Eroica was four months later and perhaps seven hundred miles away, though it seemed farther. Not that the setting mattered to Klaus. He could do his job no matter where he was assigned, whether it was a leaky safehouse on the outskirts of Prague or a luxury suite at one of the grandest hotels in Paris.

He _had_ expected it to improve Eroica's mood, but the thief was irritable today. Klaus didn't see why. The mission was simple: steal a painting from the Louvre, and replace it with a fake provided by NATO, so that no one would notice the theft. Even if he had been pulled onto the assignment at the last minute, Klaus was pretty sure even Eroica couldn't screw this one up.

The fake painting was leaning against the wall behind the thief. It was the usual vaguely irritating and pointless thing, done in the sort of style that now automatically reminded Klaus of Eroica. It showed St. George on a white horse, slaying a stubby black dragon. He had a flowing cape and a plume on his helmet, and a useless chubby maiden fainting in the background. Eroica, of course, loved it. He couldn't stop giving it helpless, dreamy looks when he thought Klaus' attention was elsewhere, and then pasting the scowl back on his face when Klaus turned around.

"Can't you hurry?" Klaus lit up a cigarette.

"Put that out!" Eroica straightened up. "It's not good for the painting."

"Why? It's a fake."

Eroica started to say something, then stopped. "Well-- it's still a painting, and it's still bad for it!"

"Would you get back to work!" Klaus pointed at the plans and blueprints spread out over the desk.

Eroica didn't move, except to enunciate, crisply: "Put that cigarette out, now."

Klaus stalked over to the table and stubbed the cigarette violently into the already half-full ashtray. Ash scattered over the edges of the plans and Eroica sniffed disdainfully.

"Now hurry up--"

"Don't rush me," Eroica interrupted, his hands brushing over the blueprints. He traced a finger swiftly along an outlined corridor, then tapped staccato against a cluster of wiring behind a wall. "Hm."

Klaus clenched his fists. "Can you do it?"

"I can do anything," Eroica said. "Shut up." He pulled a pen from behind his ear and started making notes along the edge of the plans, tiny complex calculations of time and distance and velocity. "A and B will need to rush out and do some shopping, I'm afraid. I'll need a case of bottled water, a bottle of single-malt Glen Garioch whisky, and at least a quart of maple syrup. _Real_ maple syrup, mind you. Hm, and for the end-stage... a pound of ball bearings, fifty feet of nylon rope, a bulb wrench. And tell G to go out and get a blue dress. _Dark_ blue. As expensive as possible. He's got to look wonderfully intimidating."

"Ah. And is that all?" Klaus gritted out.

"Thank you, yes," Eroica said dismissively, quickly becoming engrossed in his calculations again. Klaus clenched his fists. He went out to give the Alphabets their orders.

* * *

Eroica was lounging in a plush chair when Klaus came back into the room, his legs stretched out and his shining black boots propped up on the desk.

"Are you finished?" Klaus demanded.

"Oh yes," Eroica said. He wasn't smiling. "But we need to talk first."

"No, we don't."

"Oh, I think we do." Eroica said. "'You'd think a queer like you wouldn't care to use blackmail'-- what exactly is that supposed to mean, Major?"

"What do you think it means? You're a fucking pervert," Klaus spit out. "People like you-- they always have to worry about being blackmailed. Found out. People get ruined. They fucking kill themselves over it. You'd think--"

"I am not every fucking queer in the world," Eroica spit out, and Klaus blinked, silenced. "I am what I am, I have no secrets. Using blackmail may make me a criminal but it doesn't automatically make me a hypocrite. Who the bloody hell are you to tell me that I ought to play nice with the straight world?"

"No secrets?" Klaus shouted. "You have a fucking _secret identity!_ "

"Oh, only because it's convenient." Eroica rolled his eyes. "If the world discovered tomorrow that the Earl of Gloria was really the Prince of Thieves-- it would affect my day-to-day life very little. _I am what I am_ ," he repeated. "I don't pretend to be anything else."

Klaus acknowledged that with a short nod.

"It's interesting to compare our strategies," Eroica said, coming closer. "You must be safe from blackmail, in your line of work. So... you play by the rules. You follow orders. You never do anything wrong. You let them tell you how to live your life, and you do it letter-perfectly. You give them no ammunition to use against you. Now, blackmail would kill my career just as quickly as yours. But I do as I please, I refuse to play it safe-- and I _cannot_ be blackmailed."

"You've got no reputation to ruin." Klaus said, but it didn't come out as cutting as he had meant it to.

"I am more free-- more safe-- than you will ever be," Eroica said, smiling like a shark. "For you the mere appearance of impropriety is fatal. For me... there's nothing I could do that people wouldn't already expect."

Klaus hissed a breath out through his teeth and turned away. "Thank you for the lecture, Earl. Can we get on with the fucking mission now?"

"Well, I think not, actually," Eroica said, and Klaus turned on him.

"No?" he said dangerously, but Eroica didn't flinch.

"You see, Major, though it's only an honorary title, of course, there are certain benefits to being the Prince of Thieves--"

"Get on with it."

"I hear things," Eroica said gently. "Now, you said the microfilm was hidden in the Raphael's frame in the late fifties, yes?"

"Yes."

"Well, sadly for NATO, _that_ Raphael was stolen in the sixties. The one hanging in the Louvre now-- that one's a fake."

"But--"

"It's still considered a legendary job; the men involved ought to be famous, really." Eroica said wistfully. He sat down again, putting his feet back up on the desk, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on two legs. "The switch was never detected-- never! _That_ is what I call a good pull."

"Then... there's no point in going on with the mission." Klaus felt fury begin to shake him, and he slammed both hands down on the desk, jolting Eroica's feet off the desk again, so that he nearly overbalanced and had to grab the arms of the chair hard. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me this to begin with, you stupid asshole!"

Eroica smiled, reached behind his ear, and pulled out the ballpoint pen he'd been using to make notes with. He held it up in front of Klaus, drawing imaginary little circles and lines in the air as he spoke.

"The real Raphael belonged, for many years, to the man who stole it; his was a crime of passion, not profit. Near the end of his life he sold it to a French collector, who kept it in her private collection and loved it very well. When she died, her paramour cleaned out her private gallery. This callow young thing didn't know a thing about art, but he liked the St. George well enough, so he kept it in his summer house in Italy. Perhaps it was a sentimental keepsake. When _he_ died, his belongings were auctioned to pay his debts. Whoever the appraiser was, he must have been a fool, because he didn't recognize the Raphael. It was auctioned, sold off in a lot with a handful of other copies and reproductions. That particular lot was bought by a German industrialist whose name you'd probably recognize. He assumed the Raphael was a fake as well, and hung it in his study for years, until his wife redecorated and St. George didn't match the curtains any more. The man donated the painting to an art school in Bonn. They hung it up in the library, until one day not too long ago, some men from NATO came knocking..."

Klaus stared. Then he looked over at the-- at the painting NATO had provided, for Eroica to switch with the real one. _He_ didn't know anything about art; he just followed orders. It wasn't possible, but-- Was it?

"If you are fucking lying," he began, but Eroica brushed him off with a gesture and walked over to the painting, brushing his hands over the aging, gilded frame with his usual swift, efficient delicacy.

"Ah, here we are," he said in less than a minute, and used the pen to dig something out from behind one of the elaborately carved curlicues. Walking back over to Klaus, he held out his hand. Blindly, Klaus held out his, palm up and open.

Eroica dropped the microfilm in it.

Klaus locked his hand around it, feeling the small metal shape cut into his palm. "Then what-- God damn you, you had me send my men out on a ridiculous scavenger hunt when all along--"

"It is like a scavenger hunt, isn't it!" Eroica said, delighted. "Just think of how much fun they're having right now. And think of how baffled _Lawrence_ will be... Besides, G should wear blue more often, it's ever so flattering on him."

"You-- I ought to--" Klaus felt it, almost like a physical sensation, when it happened. Something inside him simply snapped. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

First, he went over to the bed in the corner of the room, sat down, pulled his briefcase onto his lap and tucked the microfilm inside the compact secret compartment. Eroica watched him curiously throughout the procedure. Finally Klaus put the briefcase aside again and stood up. "You are right, you know," he said conversationally.

"About?" Eroica said warily.

"Our respective positions when it comes to blackmail." Klaus said calmly. "You can do anything you like. It's true. But for someone like me..."

He crossed the room towards Eroica. He could see clearly the little twitches in the other man's shoulders that indicated his impulse to retreat. It would probably have been a good idea.

It was too late now.

"I could be so in love with you," Klaus said, low and rough and earnest. "I could want you. _Need_ you. But if you've blackmailed me once-- you'd do it again. How could I ever-- How could I tell you, knowing--"

"Major..." Eroica's eyes were wide, his face nearly white. "I--"

"We're speaking hypothetically, of course," Klaus said, and he felt a smile curl at the corner of his mouth. Or something that felt like a smile, anyway. "It's not your fault. You are what you are. But think about it. Even if I really did want to be everything you ever wanted, even if I was dying for it--" He shrugged. "Couldn't do it. Not with a fucking blackmailer."

"Klaus," Eroica whispered.

Klaus had never seen him look so shaken. He'd knocked him down before, punched him to the ground, and afterwards Eroica had looked merely resentful. He hadn't-- he hadn't looked like this.

"I..." After a moment, the thief managed a laugh, higher and tighter than usual. "Do you know, Major, I think that is the cruelest thing you have ever said to me."

Klaus acknowledged that with a nod. It was satisfying. Or it should have been.

"Thank you for your assistance in this matter, Lord Gloria," he said. "I'll tell Accounting to expect your bill. Leave the Raphael. Someone will come for it."

He walked out.

* * *

It was six months before he saw Eroica again, and he was in a bad place when it happened. He had managed to get away from Mischa's men, and was back in the plain and plateless car that he'd stashed under a weed-choked overpass in case of just this eventuality. Though the car would get him out of the city in good time if Klaus needed it to, on the outside it looked like an old wreck that had been there for ages. The windows were dirty and smeared, with a thick layer of frost on top of the underlying layers of grime. No one would look inside.

Mischa must be hard up for help these days, Klaus thought as he tried to bandage up his arm. Fucking amateurs. They didn't deserve to be called spies. He had accomplished his objective, but shots had been fired and they'd clipped him in the arm. Despite that he'd still gotten away clean. Now he just had to tend to his arm and get out of the area. This was proving harder than expected. It was just a graze, nothing too serious, but it had bled badly, and bandaging it with only his left hand was proving to be a bitch.

The icy weeds outside cracked and rustled, and Klaus dropped the bandages, biting back a groan as he used his wounded right arm to point his Magnum--

At Eroica, who opened the drivers' side door just as far as he needed, slid into the seat next to Klaus and closed the door again. Quietly.

It was dark inside the car, only the faintest shade of moonlight fading in through the frosty windows. In the dim light, Eroica's hair was silver and his eyes were gun-metal gray. He was smiling, the way he always smiled when he'd done something insufferably clever.

"In a bit of a pinch, are we?"

Klaus lowered his arm again, resting the Magnum against his knee. Trying not to show how much it hurt.

"Could I help you with that?" Eroica offered, and Klaus silently handed him the bandages. "Lovely, thank you, Major," he said, and set to work. He was businesslike, pushing aside Klaus' sleeve to dab mercurochrome on the edges of the wound and then wrap it tightly. Klaus watched his hands move, telling himself that it was all right to get distracted. He hadn't slept in nearly thirty hours, and he was tired. That was all.

Finally Eroica finished, giving his arm a pat before leaning back into his own seat again. There was blood on the side of his hand and on the tips of his fingers, and he wiped them fastidiously on the edge of his scarf.

"What are you doing here?" Klaus finally asked.

"Oh, I brought you a present," Eroica said. He didn't look at Klaus when he said it.

"You crossed the Iron Curtain," Klaus said tiredly. "Intruded on one of my missions. Put yourself in-- who the fuck knows how much danger you put yourself in. To give me a present."

Eroica's eyes flashed to his, just for a moment. They were very bright. "I love you, Major."

Klaus gritted his teeth. "I thought we were through with that nonsense."

Eroica had been carrying a small black case with him. He pulled it onto his lap and opened it. Inside were several file folders, mixed in with random sheafs of paper hastily clipped together, and even a few computer diskettes. Eroica shook the case slightly so that the papers and diskettes rustled and bumped together, then closed it again with a soft click.

"This is everything I know, or could find," he said, looking down at his hands, "about the business practices, contacts, investments and accounts of one Gian-Maria Volovolonte."

Klaus frowned, not understanding. "Why?"

"He's my friend," Eroica said. "If I'd betray him, well, clearly I'd betray anyone."

"I don't--"

"I thought about it. I decided that maybe you were wrong when you said I'd no reputation to ruin." Eroica smiled softly. "I am the Prince of Thieves, aren't I? And honor among thieves may not mean much to you-- but it's the only kind I've got."

Klaus reached out and put his hand on the case. "You'll give me this information, if I ask for it."

"I'm _offering_ it to you now," Eroica said, and finally looked up. "Do you understand, Klaus? If it ever became public knowledge that I'd offered you this information, my life wouldn't be worth ten lira."

Klaus nodded slowly. He looked up at Eroica for a long while. Eroica looked nervous, unhappy, but defiant. Raising his eyebrows, he waited for Klaus' response.

"You play a dangerous game," Klaus finally said. He wondered what Eroica would do if he actually did try to take the case. Perhaps it wasn't really anything incriminating, and he would return to Bonn only to find that Eroica had pulled a bait and switch once again. Or perhaps it would be the last straw, and he would die here in this ice-cold car, a knife in his ribs-- Klaus had pointed a gun at Eroica's head once, and he still didn't know why he hadn't pulled the trigger. Eroica was no better at controlling his temper. You just had to know what buttons to push.

He and Eroica were really far more alike than Klaus liked to admit.

He looked up at Eroica, and flinched back a little at the heat and the anger in the other man's eyes. "Oh, just do it," Eroica breathed. "Go on. You know you want to. Bloody hell, Klaus, I'll just tell everyone that you did anyway--"

Klaus snarled and lunged at him. Pinning Eroica's head against the seat with his one good hand, he leaned over and kissed him, hard.

He wasn't expecting it to be very good. He was tired and hungry, his arm hurt like hell, and he'd never enjoyed kissing anyway. Why should it be any different with a man? No reason it should be. Mouths were mouths.

Then Eroica's long, strong hands came up to cup his face and hold him in place, and his mouth pushed Klaus' open wider, and he _moaned_ \-- and Klaus shuddered head to foot, uncontrollably.

It... It was different with a man.

As it turned out, unbridled lust for Eroica felt a lot like unbridled fury did. Unlike anger, though, Klaus didn't know what to do with it. And unlike anger, he couldn't stop the way it made his hands shake.

They kissed for what felt like hours. They kissed until Klaus' jaw hurt and his body prickled with fresh sweat. Somehow along the way Eroica ended up on Klaus' side of the car, his knee between Klaus' thighs and his hands up under his coat and his shirt. It was terrifying. This was Eroica's freedom, his safety?

Klaus didn't feel safe.

He pulled back. "Eroica--"

"Um," Eroica said, panting. "Dorian."

"What?"

Eroica brushed his hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand, clearly trying to subdue his breathing. "If we're going to continue with this," he said matter-of-factly, "you have to call me Dorian."

Klaus grunted and leaned back against the seat. He wished he could crack a window open. A cigarette right now would do him a world of good. "See?" he growled, pointing at Eroica. "Blackmail already. Two minutes in and you're threatening me."

"Oh, am I really?" Eroica said, annoyed. "'If we're going to continue this.' That's a threat?"

Klaus sighed, squirming a little in his seat. "Maybe," he forced himself to admit. "A little. I know you don't make empty threats," he added.

Fuck. It was probably the sweetest thing he'd ever said to Eroica.

(To Dorian.)

He glanced at Eroica under his lashes, to see if the fucking thief had picked up on it.

Eroica was smiling, in a way that probably should have terrified Klaus. But it didn't.

"No, I don't," he said, leaning forward and capturing his mouth again for a long, hot moment. "You should know, Major, when it comes to you, I mean everything I say." He kissed Klaus' stubbled jaw for a moment, nipping sharply at his neck. Klaus stifled a moan.

"I know," Klaus said, burying his good hand in Dorian's hair again, yanking him up to be kissed again. "God damn you. I know."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Beat That My Heart Skipped (Sounded Like This) [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3896038) by [podfic_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/podfic_lover/pseuds/podfic_lover)




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